A Fear of Death
by Stella Goodfellow
Summary: He again pulled her into his arms with a crushing embrace and said breathlessly, “I don’t want to lose you.” Leander Hastings really never feared something. Until there was Linda.


Sun gleamed down into an open window across the parlor, the dust from the old room shining like gold in the light.

Said light shone on a woman's face. She was staring out over the hills, her beautiful ever changing eyes lost in a dream. She looked fairly young; although mixture of worry lines and smile crinkles marred her otherwise perfect complexion. Her hair practically reflected the sunlight off of it, a few wisps of white hair at the roots. She was remarkably beautiful.

The door opened, but the woman's eyes did not leave the countryside. In stepped a tall and angular man. He looked to be around 30 years old, but the power emanating from him spoke of an older man. He flashed his perfect white teeth for a moment as he contemplated the beauty in the chair. She was radiating her own power, without even noticing, no doubt. But the feel of her power was different from the man's. He radiated strength and intimidation, while she radiated warmth and comfort, making you want to draw nearer. He resisted, having experienced this pull for so long.

The woman had now turned to him and had a slight smile on her face, hers eyes turning a bright blue and gold. She watched as the man sat in a chair opposite her. His dark brows were at ease, which was rare for him, and his piercing green eyes showed a relaxed contentment. He looked only a few years older than from when she first met him, despite the fact that it had been almost a century.

"What are you thinking?" His deep voice rumbled through the quiet room. She met his hard stare; the one that used to intimidate her and cause her to look away, but now merely made her roll her eyes and smile.

"You." She said simply, watching as his thick eyebrows rose and his eyes laughed.

"Really? And what exactly about me do you meditate so ardently on?"

"Age." Again she replied simply, and again watched his expression. His face had turned slightly sour and now he seemed to be withdrawing from the conversation.

"Linda…" He started raking a hand through his dark curls, looking around the room. "We talked about this…" He stopped as she raised a hand, the smile still playing at her lips.

"It's okay. I do not think of it as I used to. I am merely jealous that you get to look so good when you are over 2 centuries old and I have to grow old. It's not fair you know." Her smile wavered a bit, but came back full force, a sign she was only partly kidding.

He relaxed slightly again and then again turned his hard stare on her. "You know you are beautiful." It didn't seem like a compliment the way he said it but she knew from experience.

"Oh I know. It's one of my gifts from being an enchanter; I get to look good even at 103." She said dismissively.

"But…" He said perceptively. He always had a way of knowing when she was holding back.

She gave him a sad sort of smile. "I may look okay on the outside but we both know I'm going to die."

There. It had been said. It was a sore topic for the both of them and they had been ghosting over it for years. Now the cat was out of the bag.

Again Leander started to look uncomfortable; his eyes searched the room, a habit he seemed to adopt from years on the run. Always looking for an escape.

"Lee… We know it's going to happen and probably sooner rather than later. It's rare for enchanters to live as long as I have." She felt just as uncomfortable as him but she needed him to talk about it. Linda realized he was not going to look at her anytime soon so she turned her gaze back out the window.

Linda decided she should try a new tactic and took a deep breath, but before she could start speaking the breath was squeezed out of her as long arms picked her easily from the chair. She was so shocked she couldn't even scream. Lately Leander had been very gentle around her, but now he was holding her as close as possible releasing waves of power, probably by accident.

His smell surrounded her and she brought her arms around his back to return the embrace. His muscles had at first been tensed and bunched but now seemed to melt into relaxation. The enchanter's magic she was releasing into him being part of the reason.

"Please." He whispered into her hair. "I can't..." He voice cracked at the end. She was slightly unnerved, she had never known anything to make Leander Hastings act like a small frightened child.

Linda leaned back to look into his eyes, but he kept them downcast, hidden underneath his brows.

"Leander, look at me." She pulled his chin up to see something that made her lose her words. Tears had welled up in his eyes and one had just spilled over. Never in her life had she seen this man cry. Not once had he lost his composure so completely. It scared her.

"Oh Lee, don't. Please don't do that, you know how I am with tears." She rubbed at his cheeks with her thumbs, trying to sooth his tension. He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing her fingers. He then stared at them for a short while before looking up.

"I… I am a proud man. You know that of course. When I was young, I thought nothing could scare me, and for a long time that was true. Until you came along, and Seph. I never knew the fear of death as much as I do now." He again pulled her into his arms with a crushing embrace and said breathlessly, "I don't want to lose you."

They stood like that, each lost in their own thoughts, holding each other for a long while. Every now and then mumbling some kind of reassurance or endearment.

Finally Linda backed away just long enough to look at him fully but still hold onto him. She had no clue what to say in a situation like this. Leander was supposed to be the rock in the relationship, the one with the sound mind. What could she say to comfort him?

"I'm not going to pretend that everything is going to be alright. I'm not going to pretend that I am not going to die," She noticed him wince at that but carried on anyway, "But, until that time, I am still here and you will never lose me." It was a lame reassurance she knew, but it was all she could give, and she had learned long ago not to promise anything more.

Lee seemed okay with that and finally pulled away from her. She watched as he steadily brought back his former composure and started reining in the large amounts of power he had been leaking since the beginning.

When he looked at her again he was the same old Leander she always knew, no trace of the man that had just broken and cried on her shoulder. She gave a slight smile to him and said, "Seph and Madison are coming over in an hour. We should be getting ready."

Linda turned and started towards the door of the parlor but was stopped by a hand on her wrist. She glanced back to see Leander with a dangerous yet playful look on his face. A deadly combination when it came to him.

"An hour you say? Well seeing as you did just make me cry, I believe you need to pay for it." A predatory grin spread across his face as he yanked Linda into his arms and carried her bridal style from the room, ignoring her screams of protest and dodging the fists that she threw out, a the while both grinning and trading insults.

When Linda later reflected on their conversation, she realized that she never wanted to lose him either.

**A/N: In my opinion this is quite the lame ending. But I had no idea what to do. When I started this story my intention was to have Linda actually on her death bed and Seph and Madison would come and everybody saying goodbye and such. However, this story took on a mind of its own and started going in a completely different direction (as my stories are prone to do). I couldn't resist doing a little vulnerable Hastings. Maybe I'll write a sort of sequel where its years later and she actually is dying. **

**Well I hope you enjoyed it anyways, every review is always appreciated, even flames. Thanks for reading. Peace.**


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